


A Life of Service

by HelBelle



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Aromantic, Asexual Character, Drug Addiction, F/F, F/M, Long, M/M, Nonbinary Character, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Synthesis Ending (Mass Effect), Trans Female Character, Trauma, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:48:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29271990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HelBelle/pseuds/HelBelle
Summary: Commander Freyja Shepard is dead, sacrificed to unify synthetics and organics.  The child she never met grows up in her shadow, yearning to live up to the legend.  This is the story of H'Nossa T'Soni Shepard.  A story of suffering, of pride, of strength and determination.  Through war after war, conflict after conflict.  Until a new enemy arrives, threatening not only all life in the milky way, but the entire universe.
Relationships: Female Shepard/Liara T'Soni, Garrus Vakarian/Tali'Zorah nar Rayya, Jack | Subject Zero/Miranda Lawson
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first fan fiction in about 20 years, so I hope it goes over well. The story is not always told in chronological order, and not always from the same perspective, though it does predominantly follow its main character, H'Nossa. I'm a big fan of easter eggs, homages, and nods to outside sources. There are lot in this work! Let me know if you find them.

_“Tell me another story about the Shepard.”_

_“Well, it is getting late but…_

_Okay, one more story.”_

**A Life of Service**

A Mass Effect story

Prologue

Mindoir

Liara feels numb.

She wants to die.

She had already lost her once.

Now she has lost her again.

Looking around the field, as though in a fog, she sees the impossible crowd of mourners stretching to the horizon like a wave of darkness sweeping the land. Dress uniforms of a dozen militaries blur together in a bruise palette sea of somber dress. The entire council is represented here today. If there was nothing else they could agree on it was that respect should be paid to fallen heroes. Heroines. The casket is closed. It is closed because it is empty. It is empty because nothing remains to be collected. Draped heavily in the flags of every council race, it is the rainbow in the dark cloud of the ceremony. She died a Spectre, after all. The warm arm around her shoulder is small comfort. She barely feels the tears that drip absently from her cheeks.

Ashley Williams takes the podium, ironclad bearing belying the pain Liara knows she’s feeling inside. They had served together, it seemed like a lifetime ago. Saved each other’s lives countless times. She touches the datapad on the podium, commencing the Alliance’s portion of the funeral proceedings. Seven Marines in sharp blue uniforms march into position to the left of the stage, rifles held at port arms across their chests. An eighth stands to the side, bugle tucked under her arm. A ninth, facing away from the audience, stands at attention.

“Lieutenant Cross.”

“Here, Ma’am!”

“Lieutenant Commander Lopez.”

“Here, Ma’am.”

“Chief Masterson.”

“Here, Ma’am.”

“Gunnery Chief Sanders”

“Here, Ma’am.”

“Commander Shepard.”

There is no sound but the wind passing over the plains, as the name is spoken. Liara collapses into sobs. It’s absolutely unfair, to know that _she_ will never answer again. Why must they taunt her so? Why must she alone be doomed to lose her loved ones again and again and again? Somewhere, in the back of her rational mind, she knows that’s a petty, juvenile thought. So many died in the war, so many loved ones were lost. What makes her think she’s special? Grief is a powerful force, however, and in that moment, she feels absolutely alone.

"Commander Freyja Shepard."

The silence is deafening. She wants to scream, to fling herself on the casket, to rage at the heavens.

"Commander Freyja J. Shepard"

The Marine facing away calls out a loud, sharp, guttural command. The sound jars her out of her thoughts. The arm around her shoulder squeezes tighter at her startled jump.

"Present... Arms."

Seven rifles shift and snap to position as one. Seven rifles point to the sky. Seven Rifles issue their report. Once. Twice. Three times.

The Bugler raises her instrument, a somber melody carries over the assembled sea of mourners.

Liara barely hears them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, and I hope you continue to enjoy the rest of the story as I post it. I'll do my best to be regular about it ^_^. Constructive criticism always welcome, or else how do we improve?


	2. The Start of Something

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Graphic violence with detailed descriptions.

**PART I:**

**A Childhood too** **Brief**

Chapter 1:

_The Start of Something_

Arcturus Station

2236

Rear Admiral Williams was tired, and she had one hell of a headache. A day full of carefully timed appointments in a desperate attempt to hastily vet an XO for her newly commissioned and woefully undercrewed ship, the CSV London, the proposed flagship of a growing fleet of stealth vehicles modeled in purpose and capability after the beloved Normandy of her youth, had left her mentally exhausted. If she were completely honest, she would have preferred to stay a ground-pounder for the duration of her career. When Admiral McNamara had informed her that the Alliance would be standing up a Task Unit as part of a cooperative effort with the other Council races to provide a fleet specifically geared towards Spectre operations, she had been less than thrilled to learn she’d been tapped for the job of commanding it, and it’s flagship vessel. As the second historically, and oldest surviving human Spectre, she couldn’t deny that it was an appropriate call. It just wasn’t a call she wanted. She had been content as a Captain of her special operations unit, serving the Alliance and the Council with a rifle in her hand and helmet on her head.

When the chime on her door announced that her last appointment for the day had arrived, she sighed exasperatedly and reached for her datapad. She touched the comm button and told her visitor to wait, pulling up the dossier as she did so. It took a moment for recognition to sink in as she read the name: it was Asari. Her first thought was that it was strange to see an asari name pop up in her queue. Her second thought, a moment later, was that she KNEW that name. She scrolled down through the dossier, the litany of commendations and awards, the extensive service history. She pressed the comm.

“Come in, Commander.”

The door opened to a young asari girl, roughly five feet tall, in immaculately pressed service blues. Admiral Williams brought all her resolve to bear to repress a laugh at the sight. The poor girl had to have had the uniform custom made for her, being well under the height necessary to fit the smallest standard issue uniform. A multitude of scars marred a face that otherwise would have been beautiful, still possessed of the jovial roundness of youth. One of the tentacle-like fringes of her crest was missing, exposing her smooth, blue scalp beneath the protective cover. The dark markings on her brow formed a crown which sat above all too familiar eyebrow-like ones, three mirrored, sweeping lines, cradling a center marking like a jewel. Her chest was adorned with the ribbons corresponding to her commendations. Around her neck she wore the Star of Terra, the highest decoration which an Alliance servicemember could receive. The lab-created, star shaped diamond on it’s blue ribbon stood apart from the otherwise somber uniform. Ashley kept her own in a casing on her desk. She wouldn’t begrudge the girl the gaudy display, it was plain to see why she would otherwise struggle to be taken seriously. With parade precision, the young asari approached the desk, snapped to attention, saluting the superior officer.

“Good Morning, Ma’am. Commander H’Nossa T’Soni reporting as ordered.”

The Admiral waved her hand dismissively. “At ease, Commander.”

The girl cut her salute and placed her hands behind her back, staring fixedly ahead of her. She looked, for all the world, like a child playing dress up. Asari aged slower than humans, matured slower. Ashley looked again at her dossier. Forty-nine years old. Middle aged, for a human, but barely pubescent by asari standards. She questioned whether the girl even had a hint of a woman’s body underneath her uniform. It was doubtful. 

“Your service record is impressive, Commander.”

“Thank you, Ma’am.”

“Frankly, too impressive. When I first looked it over, I didn't believe a word of it. Graduated top of your class in both the Grissom Academy and the N7 Fury program; Seven purple hearts – 3 awarded during the Colonial Rebellions and 4 during the Earth Civil War-; five times appointed to the Order of the Legion Superior for gallantry and heroism in the battles of Benning, Horizon, Olor, Amaterasu, and Elysium; 2 Silver Stars awarded for heroism during the Belgian blitz and the battle of Argonne; and lastly, the Star of Terra for exceptional gallantry and heroism in actions taken in Lond-- I'm sorry, Commander, but can you explain to me how an Asari child enlists in the Alliance Marines, let alone becomes the highest decorated XO candidate for my ship to come across my desk?”

The girl, the young woman, stared fixedly in front of her, a slight bulge of the jowls as she clenched her jaw the only outward sign to betray her composure. The admiral looked her over. Her dress shoes were polished to a mirror shine, and the creases of her uniform were so sharp you could cut yourself on them. Ashley knew the look of someone desperate to impress, yearning to be recognized for her hard work. She also knew that it was cruel to push the junior officer, but she had a feeling the Asari could handle it, and she had to _know_ what her mettle was made of.

“Because, _Commander_ , from where I’m sitting, you are a heartbeat away from staring down a court martial tribunal on charges of stolen valor.”

She knew it stung, she could see it in the fire that sparked in those emerald eyes. Eyes so like her father...so much like _her._

“With all due respect, ma’am, I believe that’s a little unfair. I've had a long time to accrue those awards, twenty years enlisted before I took my commission eleven years ago, and I've spent fifteen of those thirty one years as a graduate of the N7 program. I would attribute it to a family history of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I've done nothing whatsoever any other marine wouldn't have done in my place, Ma'am.”

“That doesn't answer my first question, Marine.”

“No, Ma'am. I was raised on Thessia and Earth, Ma'am. My father was an Alliance Marine. She died in the Battle of London. Asari military law won't let me enlist until I reach my century mark, but Human law said I could enlist at eighteen since I was born on Earth. I grew up on stories about my father, ma'am. I always wanted to be like her. I got into the Alliance Marines on a loophole because I’m an Alliance citizen.”

Williams ran her fingers through her long, dark hair, staring at the datapad on her desk.

“I’m deeply familiar with Belgium and Argonne, and the colonies. I don’t recall hearing about any actions in London, Commander. Perhaps you’d care to elaborate on the Star of Terra you supposedly earned.”

The Commander took a deep breath, the muscles in her jaw flexing and releasing impulsively. Her gaze glassed over, staring into a space that only she could see as her mind replayed a memory that clearly upset her equilibrium.

“That is... a very long story, Ma’am. I doubt you’d want to hear it.”

“Don’t presume to tell me what I do or do not want, Commander.”

Commander T’soni sighed. “It was right after I graduated from the N1 program. I was transferred from Rio to London to wait for deployment orders. My battle buddies and I went out for a night on the town. Corporal Sturleson had to take a piss. He was wasted, so he decided a back alley was good enough. I guess we picked the wrong alley, because he ended up pissing on a cargo crate and this Salarian jumped out. At first we thought he was a refugee, until 4 more popped out from the woodwork, guns drawn. We'd stumbled on an embedded STG team that was tracking the movements of a rogue Asari commando with anti-Council leanings. They'd started out ten strong, she'd already killed five of them, so when we offered what help we could, they jumped at it. The commando... I guess she was an Ardat-Yakshi, because she had picked them off one by one, ah, romantically, like some kind of succubus.”

Her breath quickens. Ashley can see that she’s left the room, her story gone from retelling to re-living.

“I order Sturleson to double time back to base and alert the chain. I’ll never see him alive again. Fredricks stays with me, she says I'm not big enough to handle it by myself. I want to punch her in her smart mouth, but I don't. The Salarians show us what they have, data wise: equipment requisitions attributed to military units which didn't exist anymore -explosives, high powered rifles-, a map of the city showing locations where she'd been spotted. They have no solid data, no idea what she wants, but I can guess. The council is still spending half its time in London since the Citadel conduit is still operational. A lot of Asari are still pretty upset about humanity being the new favorite child of the council, and bullying the council into letting the 'lesser races' in. It wouldn't take a lot of thinking to make a plan to take out a few council members, and pin it on humans. We are in the middle of the civil war anyway, both sides will blame each other, probably escalate things out of control. Earth goes the way of Tuchanka.”

“I let the Salarians in on what I'm thinking. They tell me that they've been thinking the same thing, but with no proof of her presence, and no witnesses to date, the cards are in her hand. I tell them not really, you just need to think like a commando would think. We part ways, decide we'll return to our corners and try to gather some intel, and reconvene in the morning. So Fredricks and I, we head back to the barracks. That's when we find Sturleson, dead. Stuck his omni-blade right through his temple. Of course we can't believe it's a coincidence, so we fan out and search the dorms. Nothing, but the news is on in Sturleson's room, and it's saying that the Council was set to begin mediating peace talks between the Alliance and the Federation. It all clicks. I radio the STG team, but there's no answer. I figure they've gone dark to avoid detection. Fredricks and I haul ass to the Conduit plaza. We try to talk to the guards at the gate, soldiers from the Alliance and the Primacy. They don't believe us, don't believe me, say I should go back home and take my babysitter with me.”

“Then the building explodes behind them. Well, half the building. Not the important half, where the meeting is, but the other half. The training kicks in, I know it's a trap right out of the gate. The smart thing to do is keep the councilors inside. I tell the guards, but they say I'm crazy, and sound the evacuation alarm. Fredricks and I, we're on the same page, so we split up to try to cover the exits. There are just too many, so I'm running from vantage point to vantage point, trying to see it all, when I hear Fredricks over the comm, just screaming at me that she's got her. She found her on a rooftop overlooking the west exit, the opposite side of the plaza from me. It sounds like they're fighting, and it doesn't sound good. I look around at the rooftops through the scope of my Carnifex, and I see them, way off in the distance, just this tussle of limbs I can barely make out on a roof. I hear Fredricks gurgling over the comm, then it goes dead silent. I can see in the scope the movement's stopped, and just this... this little flicker of shadow, you'd miss it if you weren't looking real hard. I know it's gotta be her, some kind of stealth tech. So I do the only thing I can think of. My mom's a biotic, so was dad, so am I. I've been trained by the Alliance's best. I charge, like some big goddamn superhero, flying through the air. But she's really far away. Farther than I've ever charged before. It takes everything I've got. I feel blood running down my nose, out of my aural cavities, hell even my eyes. My head feels like I'm crushing it with a vice. The back of my neck burns like fire. Not the first time I’ve blown my amp out. I see her rifle up and sighting in. I don't even make it with enough energy to hurt her, not really, but just enough to knock her aim off, make the shot go off harmlessly on the lawn.”

“Then she's on top of me. I've got nothing left, that charge took everything out of me. So all I can do is just cling to her rifle like a koala and pray to anyone who'll listen that someone thought to look for the sniper. She's carving at me with a knife, here and here.” Her fingers traced over her scars. One runs along her left cheek, from aural cavity to lip, another across her right brow and the bridge of her nose, a third just across her right eye, fortunate to have missed the eye itself. “She cuts one of my crests off, just right off. She's taking my head and bashing it into the ledge of the building, stomping on me. I'm blacking out, staring at Fredricks' body lying on the roof nearby. I can see her eye hanging out of the socket, her skull smashed like a honeydew. And I hear them, from somewhere far away, the Salarians, guns blazing. But everything is going dark and I've lost a lot of blood, some teeth even. I know I'm dying, I can feel the brain bleed, and the synthetics can't help me. I smile, though, cause I know I did it. I stopped her. It won’t be for nothing.”

The asari blinked, as if suddenly waking up from a dream. She looked at the Admiral, who caught herself, hand over her gaping mouth, trying to imagine a - what, 12, 13 year old? - human doing something like that? She turned away and placed her hand on her temple, shaking her head.

“I apologize for the informality, ma'am. I told you it was a long story. Anyway, they awarded me the Star of Terra while I was in the hospital. They said that if it hadn't been for me, the rest of the Council races would have wiped Earth off the map for assassinating the other Council members. They gave awards to Fredricks and Sturleson, too, posthumously. The Salarians, though, most of them died, and they didn't even get a thank you. Not from the Council, not from the Alliance. I don't feel like I deserve it.”

The words made Rear Admiral Williams stop and look at the young Marine, with her litany of scars, each telling the story again. She saw, in her mind, the exact track of each slash of the blade, heard the stomp of boots on bone. _No, you wouldn’t, would you? Just like her._ She smiled to herself, set down her datapad and collected another from her desk, bringing up a list. She tapped a few items, and handed the datapad to the Commander.

“Welcome aboard the CSV London, Commander. We have a shakedown run tomorrow at zero dark thirty and I need this ship up and running with pre-launch checklist completed within the day, can you handle that?”

The young marine took the datapad, scanning it briefly. Her expression set in stoic resolve.

“Aye aye, Ma'am.”

She cut a smart salute. Ashley stood, returning it, dismissing her curtly. As the young Asari about faced and left, she was struck again by the resemblance in demeanor to the girl’s father.. She wondered to herself if this feeling is what Anderson had when he met Shepard for the first time. She was overcome by the same emotion that she had experienced in her youth, when her father had let her sneak a peek at her Christmas presents early. The almost giddy excitement at knowing something was coming into her life she didn’t know she had wanted so very badly. The unshakeable feeling of bearing witness to the beginnings of something truly remarkable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for continuing to enjoy this story! I look forward to hearing from you in the comments.


	3. The Shepard Protects the Flock

Chapter 2:

_A Shepard Protects the Flock_

Mindoir

2197

“Mommy, it's pretty here.”

It's the first planet other than Thessia and Earth we've been to since she was born. Between her schooling, and taking the time to visit as many planets as possible, it simply hasn't been a priority. Perhaps, as well, I've been avoiding it, in much the same way I avoided visiting London as much as possible. It reminds me of her. But, H’Nossa is old enough now that she should know where her father came from. So, when an opportunity came, I chartered a ship and we came here. It's amazing how liberating life can be when one isn't tied down by monetary concerns, or a partner.

“Mommy, is that the house?”

“I believe so, my treasure.”

The current homesteader was kind enough to allow us to freely roam his expansive property. He had been hesitant, at first. Understandable, with Mindoir's tragic history. When I explained to him that we were here to visit my daughter's family, he nodded with sad eyes and bid us welcome. It's a bit of a hike from the current farmhouse to the ruins of the old one, but we see it now, the tattered ruins of a modest pre-fab, worn by fire and weather. As we approach, H’Nossa runs ahead, always eager to explore, always fearless. She carries in her little hands the two bouquets we purchased in the town proper, lovely flowers the locals call, “Farmer's Daughters”. It seems appropriate.

A high voice calls in the distance, and I look towards it. For a moment, my heart stops beating in my breast. I see her, standing on the ridge, prairie winds whipping her long, red hair as she waves to me. _Freyja, my love._ Then I blink away my tears, and she is gone again, replaced by the figure of a young human girl, doubtless tending to one of the many flocks of smaller herbivores roaming the hills. Her auburn hair and simple clothing is a poor substitute for the ruby hair and combat fatigues of my love. I turn away with an ache in my chest. My alien friends ask me how the pain can still be so fresh after ten years, but they don't understand time passes a little slower for Asari. 10 years is a tenth of a pre-war Human life, but merely a hundredth of mine. For me it was a very short time ago that she was taken from me.

I find H’Nossa standing before two stone protrusions, sticking up from the ground. “Mommy, are these my grandma and grandpa?”

I kneel down to read the writing on the stones.

_Here Lies Gunnery Chief_ _Here Lies Lieutenant Commander_

 _Quanah Lightfoot-Shepard_ _Kasaine Shepard_

 _Alliance Colonial Marines_ _Mindoir Defense Force_

 _Warrior, Wife and Mother_ _Farmer, Husband and Father_

 _2130-2170_ _2127-2170_

“Yes, my treasure,” I tell her, running my hand along her tender, developing crests, “These are their graves.”

She stands before each of them, and with all the innocence and love of a child, hugs each stone tightly before placing a bouquet against it. I think she understands, but it is still a touching gesture. She turns, sniffling, and I wipe her tears with my fingers and her snot on the sleeve of my worn coat. She pulls away from me indelicately, frowning, and I trace my fingers along the furrowed ridge of the crown-like markings on her brow.

“Mommy, what's a war-ear?”

I chuckle slightly and gather her in my arms. “Well, a _warrior_ is someone who protects people. Like your father. I guess she got it from her parents.”

“Mm.” She nods understanding.

We explore the ruins for a time, and I point out to her where the different rooms would have been in the homestead. Here, the kitchen, there, likely where her father slept growing up. She is fascinated, curious. She has seen the ruins of many houses. Much of Earth and Thessia are still ruins. But these, these are personal to her, this is where she comes from, this was family. She touches everything, as if imprinting it into her memories like a Prothean. Doubtless the influence of the scattered time she’s spent with Javik.

She points up the hill at a flock of fluffy, white creatures on the ridge. “What are those?”

“That is a flock of sheep, I believe. They come from Earth. You've seen sheep before.”

“Oh. What's that lady doing?”

I see the young girl from before, crook in hand, ushering the sheep along. “Well my love, she's the shepherd.”

“The Shepard?” She looks from the gravestones to the girl. At the time, it doesn’t register in my mind as relevant. “Mommy, what does it mean to bea Shepard?”

“A shepherd is someone who takes care of the flock.”

“Why do they need a Shepard to take care of them?”

“That’s… you see, in the wild, animals know how to take care of themselves, mostly. But when they become domesticated, used to living in a peaceful community, they forget how. So, the shepherd protects them from predators, who would otherwise kill or eat them.”

“So… A Shepard protects the flock.”

“Yes, my treasure.”

“Mm.” She nods again in understanding.

Goddess... I should have seen it then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for continuing to enjoy this story! I look forward to hearing from you in the comments.


	4. My Kindness, My Krannt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> H'Nossa is introduced to the children of a family friend. Though things seem to start on the wrong foot, not everything is as it seems.

Chapter 3

_ My Kindness, My _ _Krannt_

Tuchanka 2192

H'Nossa was being shy.

Liara found it strange. Ordinarily she was very outgoing, always running ahead of her, talking to everyone that would stop to listen; touching, smelling, and seeing everything as much as possible. Here, in the magnificent hall of the Urdnot clan, where Urdnot Wrex sat atop his stone throne beside Bakara, his mate, she chose caution and reservation. It might have been the toothy grin of the mighty, scarred Krogan; or the piercing gaze of his mate behind her veil. More likely, however, it was the two young Krogan who stood between the two seats, clinging to their own parents. H'Nossa showed no hesitance around adults. She’d spent most of her childhood around them so far. Interaction with her peers, however, had been decidedly rare.

“H'Nossa, this is my good friend, Wrex, and his mate, Bakara. Say hello.”

“...Hello, sir.”

Her Krogan was imperfect, and heavily accented. It was not an easy language for Asari to speak, with their throats designed more for the lilting vowels and soft consonants of their native language. H'Nossa was admittedly a bit of an exception, as her first language had been the english spoken by the humans around her in London. Any language, of course, was easy to learn, thanks to the Asari ability to share information in the meld. That did not, however, make it any easier to make the guttural, reptilian croaks of Krogan people. The effort itself alleviated some of Liara’s embarrassment at the child’s hesitancy.

Wrex smiled broader.

“You taught her Krogan, eh? Keeping her in touch with the important parts of her heritage, I see. Good.”

Liara returned the smile, stroking the girl’s developing crests.

“I’ll have you know we make it a point to learn the language of every species we visit. But, yes, more than you guess.”

Bakara placed a hand on the back of the Krogan girl standing next to her. The child carried a large toy Tommka in her claws, which she clutched protectively.

“These are the twins. Shepard, and her brother, Mordin. Say hello, children.”

“Hi.” The two said in unison.

Mordin was smaller than his sister, but Liara could already see the wiry muscle developing over his small frame. She knew that they were at least a year younger than H'Nossa, but they were already a head or more taller. Sometimes it was easy to forget when interacting only with adults of a species that they matured at different rates. Krogan, who could outlive her own people by half a lifetime, developed physically at a very rapid rate, a necessary survival trait on a planet actively trying to kill you for generations. That the Asari developed slower in body was likely a result of the more advanced development of their mental and biotic abilities.

“Shepard and Mordin, Wrex? I never thought you’d be one for sentimentality.” Liara smiled at the children.

Wrex grunted dismissively.

“Mordin, you, your sister, and H'Nossa go play in the pit.”

“No. I wanna stay.”

Wrex looked at Liara, Liara looked at Wrex. Liara coughed.

“Well, Wrex, it seems like the rejuvenation of Tuchanka’s cultural and economic infrastructure is moving along quite smoothly.”

“It certainly helps when you have the cooperation of the clans. Nothing like being an intergalactic war hero to unite the people under your banner.”

“Wrex, let’s not forget the financial contributions we’ve received in the industrial sector.”

The children, hearing the boring talk of adults, scampered away, lest their minds melt.

“The pit” was a large, round sand pit in the middle of the hall. Used both for public speaking and for single combat. The hall around was ringed with rows of stone seats, with a single break at the head where the heads of clan Urdnot sat. Mordin immediately set to digging a hole in the ground with his hands, while Shepard began driving her truck over the rough terrain, pausing occasionally to open fire on the “Thresher Maw” that was her brother. H'Nossa sat off to the side, feeling out of place and hesitant. She drew circles in the sand with her foot.

“Want fruck?”

H'Nossa looked up, seeing Shepard standing a few feet away, holding her toy.

“Huh?”

“Fruck.” Shepard pointed at the toy in her hands.

“Um… No. It’s okay.”

“It fries…” Shepard held the last syllable as she held the toy out tantalizingly, pantomiming it flying through the air.

“Oh. Okay.”

“Take fruck.”

H'Nossa stood up, walking over to the other girl and holding out her hands. Shepard clutched the truck to her chest.

“C-Can I play with it?” H'Nossa asked, with the narrow politeness of a 5 year old.

This seemed to confuse Shepard, who scrunched her face up at the request.

“Take fruck.”

H'Nossa reached out her hands again, grasping for the toy. Shepard leveraged the truck to push the Asari away from her. At this point Mordin stopped digging, and squatted down in his hole with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. Liara, watching from the higher vantage point of the adults, moved to encourage her daughter to leave the toy alone, but was stopped with Bakara’s firm hand on her shoulder. She looked back, and the Krogan shook her head gently. Wrex leaned forward in his seat, eyes fixed on the children.

“This is important, Liara. This is Tuchanka. Things are different here. Let them play.”

In the pit, H'Nossa had landed on her backside, pushed to the ground by the larger Shepard. Her face flushed purple, and she puffed out her cheeks indignantly. Standing from the ground, she lowered her stance and charged at the other girl, slamming into Shepard and knocking her from her feet as she grabbed the toy. The fight was on. They rolled around on the ground, at times jerking the truck back and forth between their bodies, at others kicking and punching each other with the wild, formless strikes of children. Shepard struck H'Nossa with a vicious headbutt to the abdomen, knocking H'Nossa over. H'Nossa, flopping backwards from the blow, grabbed Shepard’s leg and bit her calf fiercely. 

Mordin decided now was the opportune time to make his play for the truck, and with a mighty cry of “KWOGAN ALE DWOP!” leapt from his hole onto the pile of scrambling bodies, laying hold himself of the sought after prize. The three of them struggled over the truck now. Liara chewed on her lower lip, every maternal instinct demanding she intervene. She looked pleadingly at Wrex, who simply shook his head.

“She’s doing better than I thought. Let’s see how this goes.”

Shepard kicked a clawed foot out at Mordin, catching his face and pushing it away. H'Nossa took the distraction to seize the truck and pull it into her body, rolling away from the scuffle. Mordin saw this and disengaged his sister to hop over her and tackle H'Nossa. Shepard grabbed his leg, bringing his leap short. He kicked her in the face, returning the blow from before. He clambered on top of H'Nossa, wrenching the truck out of her hands. H'Nossa lashed out with a savage kick between the boy’s legs, smashing her knee into the still unhardened armor protecting his quad. Mordin screeched and rolled over, dropping the truck into the sand. Shepard jumped over him to tackle H'Nossa, punching her in the head.

The toy Tommka now lay forgotten in the sand as the three children wrestled and fought each other purely for the sake of dominance and retribution. Mordin found his feet and launched himself into a charging headbutt at the other two, catching his sister in the ribs, pushing her off of H’Nossa and assuming her place on top of the stack. He bit H’Nossa’s side, which caused a brief but brilliant flash of blue light to erupt from the young Asari, throwing the other two back. H'Nossa stood, holding her side, blue wisps like fire wreathing the fury in her eyes. Wrex laughed and slapped his knee, pointing excitedly at her.

“Ha! See that? Ah, I remember my first blood rage.” He nodded, a nostalgic gaze taking his features as he relaxed into his seat.

“Shouldn’t we stop this? Someone will get hurt!”

“Bah, these pyjaks won’t do any real harm to each other. Besides, these are Krogan. If you stop them now, they’ll never be friends.”

“She is Asari! That is not how it works!”

“Yeah, sure, you tell her that.”

Liara muttered about her daughter being at most 1/8th Krogan anyway. Bakara patted her shoulder gently.

H'Nossa was on top of Shepard now, grabbing the collar of her shirt and smashing her head repeatedly into the Krogan’s face. Mordin leapt up and grabbed her from behind around the waist, throwing himself back to pull her off. She kicked at him, furiously driving her foot into his belly. He relinquished his hold, flopping back onto the ground. H'Nossa stood, wobbling and dizzy from the blows she had sustained to the head by her own design, and staggered to the truck, picking it up and clutching it to her chest before she too fell backwards into the sand.

The children lay there, panting with exhaustion. They were too tired, or too proud, to cry about their injuries. Each of them was bruised and beaten, but the fight was won. Shepard touched her face, feeling the tender places where H'Nossa had struck her, and began to laugh. H'Nossa looked at her in confusion, before she, too, began to laugh. Mordin was last, but loudest, wiggling his feet and pounding the ground as he rolled over onto his belly. Just listening, the jovial sound of the children laughing belied the intense bout of fisticuffs which had just occurred. H'Nossa stood, tottering slowly over to Shepard. She held out the truck.

Shepard pushed it away.

“Your fruck. Don’t want it.”

The children helped each other up, shaking and smacking the sand out of every crack and crevice of their clothes and bodies. Wrex leaned back in his chair, smiling, reaching for Bakara’s hand as he pointed a claw with his free hand at the group of children now playing happily at the Thresher Maw game from before the fight. The difference being that now, both girls were pretending to shoot at the boy, who wriggled like a giant worm.

“That, Doctor, is how you make a Krannt.”

Liara looked on and smiled.

“Indeed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! My current plan is to update 1 chapter, perhaps with a brief intermission piece, every weekend. I hope you're enjoying it, and I look forward to hearing your thoughts or suggestions in the comments!


	5. Intermission

_From: LittleBoiBlue_

I'm sorry, but I'm having a really hard time getting leave approved. I graduate next month and they said that I might be able to take some time off before they kick me back to the hot zones, but I don't know. It's been hell out there. We've got a lot to talk about. I'm learning so much at the the Villa! But damn, I'd take Tuchanka over this humidity. Bleh. I'll keep you in the loop. ~H

_From: AleDroppinRunt_

Hey, no worries, we understand. Look at it this way: at least you'll be even more prepared, right? We're gonna smash this like we smash everything. Kick em in the quad for me, Blue. ~M

_From: NotOneFlyingFruck_

I swear to the fucking eye of wrath, Blue, if you don't show up and I have to put this off again, I'm going to headbutt you in the cloaca. It's been 6 years already. You know dad won't let us off this fucking rock until we get this thing done, and I'm tired of being treated like a damn baby. You'd better be here or I'm taking the rite without either one of you if I have to. ~It's fucking Shepard you assholes.

_From: AleDroppinRunt_

Have fun getting eaten, hero. Heh heh heh.


	6. New Directions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An interview with Miranda Lawson regarding the future of humanity's most notorious private military.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry it has taken me this long to get a new chapter posted. After that big snowstorm took out my power for a week I've been struggling to catch up with my graduate schoolwork. Now I'm trying to catch up with new chapters! 
> 
> Also, I just want to say, I appreciate all of you who read this, and I know that it's a little slow going at the moment. This book of the story is really a long "the story thus far". Once we get to the warfighting I promise it will be much more exciting!

Chapter 5: New Directions

Citadel

2189

“Good evening, I’m Diana Allers, and this is The War Room. With us in the studio tonight is Director Miranda Lawson of Cerberus. Miranda, It’s been too long.”

“It has Diana. How are you?”

“I’m doing well. Now, let’s talk about the question on everyone’s minds these days. You recently finalized negotiations with the Council regarding the acquisition of Cerberus assets. Now, for those of you out there who don’t know, up until two years ago Cerberus was known galactically as a human and earth-centric terrorist organization. In fact, it was two years ago that Cerberus, assisted by then human Councilor Udina, assaulted the citadel itself in an attempted coup. Miranda, tell us how those negotiations went.”

“Unfortunately I’m not at liberty to discuss everything that was said openly, Diana, but I can tell you that the Council has agreed to selectively prosecute certain former leadership within the organization. I am also pleased to say the Council has decided to take Cerberus on as a government asset, rather than disbanding it entirely.”

“That’s quite the turnaround, isn’t it?”

“It’s… disappointing that I can’t say you’re wrong.”

“What do you think caused this change of heart from the Council? I think the majority of our viewers would agree that Cerberus has a lot to answer for in the wake of the Reaper war.”

“Well, firstly Diana, I want to take the time to point out a couple of things that often get overlooked in the discussion of Cerberus. It’s important to remember that Cerberus, when it was under the direction of Jack Harper, who many will know as The Illusive Man, was a collection of disparate, isolated cells, many of which had next to no engagement or involvement with each other, or with the attack on the council. Since Mr. Harper’s death I’ve personally made a concerted effort to rectify that, breaking down the barriers and secrecy he had set in place. More than that I have personally made a crusade out of rooting out the individuals within Cerberus who had a direct, knowing hand in the illegal or immoral directions the company moved.”

“You certainly have. You folks at home will, I hope, remember the broadcast from last year of Director Lawson demanding that Cerberus’ former leadership turn themselves into the authorities.”

“That’s right, and those that refused were forcefully brought to justice. Cerberus has a lot of positive potential, not only for mankind, but the galaxy as a whole. We would never have been able to see that come to fruition if we weren’t willing to carve out the cancer that had taken such deep root.”

“It must have been an expensive undertaking, with a great deal of assets lost.”

“It was, but Cerberus is no stranger to spending exorbitant amounts of credits. Ironically, The Illusive Man himself was largely helpful in that regard. In his death he bequeathed the majority of his assets to the company. I don’t think he foresaw the direction that I would take it. Speaking of expensive endeavors, a lot of people forget that without Cerberus, we would not have won the war.”

“You’re referring, of course, to the hand that Cerberus played in the alleged resurrection of Commander Freyja Shepard.”

“Diana, please, there was nothing alleged about it. I’ve made all of my reports and documentation public record. Shepard was a dessicated corpse, crushed by the vacuum and charred from atmospheric reentry. I brought her back, under the Illusive Man’s orders. Without Shepard, we would all have been lost.”

“So, you don’t think the galaxy would have survived the Reapers if it hadn’t been for Cerberus’ intervention.”

“I...No, I don’t. I won’t try to sit here and lie to you, Diana. Cerberus has done some awful things. I won’t say that I did them myself, but… I also won’t deny that I was aware of them. I think honesty… yes, honesty is important as we go forward here. Shall I be frank?”

“Of course, Miranda.”

“There was a time, years ago, when, I’m ashamed to admit, I believed in Mr. Harper’s ideals. I believed it was us, humanity, against them, the rest of the galaxy. Everywhere I looked, we were outgunned, outnumbered, and outclassed. Jack… he wanted to change that, he thought that humanity deserved to be on top. But the greatest pitfall he ever made towards that goal, I think, was assigning me to Shepard’s crew. Shepard...God, Shepard saw the good in everyone. I thought, when I first started my tour with the Normandy, that it was a means to an end. I was certain, absolutely certain, that Shepard was just using them to accomplish the mission. But I saw it, Diana. One day there’s a Geth on the ship. A  _ Geth _ . Even after everything Shepard went through with Saren, she set it all aside and welcomed the --its name was Legion-- welcomed Legion with open arms… She was an amazing person.”

“She was indeed. But I’d like to focus on the accord you’ve reached with the Council, Miranda.”

“Oh. Yes, of course. I apologize. It’s easy to get swept up in reminiscing. When I met with the Council, they understandably had some… let’s say trepidations about my history and intentions. I feel like it went a long way to putting them at ease when I gave over all of the R and D data the various Cerberus cells had accumulated over the years without needing to be asked.”

“You gave them everything?”

“Absolutely everything. Project Overlord, Lazarus, every scrap of research and every innovation in technology that we’ve developed. I think...I think that seeing it all laid out for them helped them realize just how much of an asset Cerberus could be, potentially.”

“Do you see Cerberus as more of an Alliance asset or a Council asset?”

“Cerberus, if we really want to make a shift away from Harper’s vision, I think  _ needs _ to be a Council asset. The Council agreed with me. They took the company from me, seized all assets. Now, let me be clear in saying I have no problem with that decision whatsoever. Anyway, they seized all assets and demanded that Cerberus, as a private entity, cease to exist. What I managed to work out with them, however, is a means to allow Cerberus to continue with the positive ideas that it has contributed. I will remain on as the director of operations, but Cerberus will answer to the Council exclusively.”

“How exactly is that supposed to work?”

“Well, for starters, it will become a multilateral organization, rather than a human exclusive one. The Council wants--which I fully support, by the way-- they want Cerberus to become a sort of intergalactic defense force. The Council is deeply concerned about the possibility of other threats, like the Reapers, coming from dark space or anywhere else beyond the Milky Way. What they want is for Cerberus to be an answer to that, to really live up to the name.”

“The guardian at the gates, as it were.”

“Exactly. Every species in the Council has a military, but there is no Council military. That’s been for the best, I think, sort of safeguarding the autonomy of races by not having the means to subjugate them under unified rule. But now the Reapers have made us see a need to have some form of unified presence Cerberus will fill that gap. Like the Spectres, only less of the Council’s sword and more its shield. Patrolling the galactic border, establishing listening stations and observatories, that sort of thing.”

“So Cerberus will be focusing entirely on establishing a presence at the galactic border?”

“Yes, initially. Once the Council is satisfied that there is nothing knocking on the door, so to speak, more opportunities become available. The beauty of Cerberus is not only as a fighting force, but as a scientific one. Think of it, all the races of the galaxy, working together to develop bleeding edge innovations in pursuit of combat readiness. If something like the Reapers ever happens again, we’ll be ready.”

“That sounds like a wonderful prospect.”

“Indeed! In fact, we’ve already made approaches to the Quarian Admiralty to discuss bringing some of their best and brightest on board. I know you’ve seen first-hand how light and unobtrusive Quarian environment suits are, and they are impervious to pathogens. That’s amazing technology that needs to see broader use than one race.”

“I see what you mean. Well, I think that’s all the time we have for today. Miranda, I hope you’ll stop by again in the future and keep us up to date on the latest developments with Cerberus.”

“Only if you’ll let me, Diana. Thank you for having me.”

“This is Diana Allers with the War Room. Thank you, and stay safe.”


End file.
